


This feeling begins just like a spark, Tossing and turning inside of your heart

by Teamtuttle



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bethyl Smut Week, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 22:46:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5683819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teamtuttle/pseuds/Teamtuttle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While at Grady, Beth dreams of Daryl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This feeling begins just like a spark, Tossing and turning inside of your heart

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to Bethyl Smut Week.
> 
> this idea has been floating around in my head for months but I've never pushed myself to write it. Bethyl Smut Week seemed the perfect motivation. this is my FIRST time writing full blown smut. it was super difficult. i feel it could be better. but lets face it. i wrote it in sporadic periods throughout today while breakup up fights between my 3 and 5 year old and all that comes with a parent's Saturday. so yeah. also, no beta. all mistakes are mine.
> 
> i hope you like it anyway.

**This feeling begins just like a spark, Tossing and turning inside of your heart**

 

_Calling your name in the midnight hour_

_Reaching for you from the endless dream_

_So many miles between us now_

_But you are always here with me_

 

It starts the way any dream does. One moment she's closing her eyes and allowing her tired and injured body to begin its transition into sleep. The next, she's standing on the old farmhouse steps, the late afternoon sun warming her cheeks.

There's no real confusion in it. She's not even quite aware she's dreaming at first.

There's nothing odd about her being back here. Nothing strange about how the barn still stands and the fields are clear of walkers. She doesn't even question it.

She doesn't look but she knows no one is here. She can feel she's alone. No Daddy. No Maggie. No Shawn or Mom or Patricia and Otis. No Rick and the family she gained _after._ Not even a single animal.

She's alone and it's nothing strange.

Beth lowers herself to the steps. Propping her elbow on her knee and her chin in her palm. It feels good to be here. It feels right.

It's quiet and calm and the sun is warm and the breeze gentle. She's not yet sure why she's here. Again, she's not confused by it. It feels right. So she doesn't feel pressed to get up and go. She doesn't feel as if she should be doing anything. She just sits and watches the long grasses in the untended fields dance and rustle together in the breeze.

Beth feels calm and comforted for the first time since she fiddled with that old piano in a candlelit room for Daryl as he rested in a coffin.

Its then that she feels another’s presence. The smell of cigarettes comes to her first. Under it is sun warmed leather. The boards behind her on the porch creek under his careful tracker-steps. She doesn't turn to him. He stops behind her and it's a moment before he takes the spot next to her, one step up.

Beth turns her head a little, then, catching his form in her periphery. He exhales a long stream of smoke off to his side opposite her and then drops the bud to the step under hers, crushing it with the toe of his travel worn boot.

It's now that she realizes she's dreaming.

“Hey.” It's not quite a whisper but it feels wrong to speak any louder. Daryl grunts lightly in response.

They sit in silence for a while and the warmth of the sun on her cheeks is now dimmed by the heat burning her where Daryl's leg rests against her side. All at once she feels like she's thrust back into that redneck brunch at candlelight. The sun is still shining and the fields rolling with windborn waves but the weight of Daryl's eyes and the memory of something new and exciting is thrumming through her veins once more.

A shiver runs up her spine at the touch of his fingertips to her neck as Daryl pulls her hair back over her shoulder. Where she didn't feel confused before, she's now pushed off centre by the return of the intensity she last felt in his company. Her eyes burn and his name lodges in her throat. The constriction in her chest makes her hands shake and her knees tremble, even as she sits next to him on her childhood home’s steps.

Daryl hasn't removed his fingers from her neck and they rest there heavily. She reaches up and curls her hand around them. The burn behind her eyes has grown to hot streaks down her cheeks. But she doesn't cry. She doesn't moan in anguish at the sorrow she knows she feels deep down. She's dreaming and it feels _so_ real but Daryl isn't here with her and she's not safe.

She's alone in Grady. She's surrounded by captors. Some who suffer with her, like Noah. Others who mean her harm, like Gorman. And many that claim ownership over her. Like Dawn.

Beth's heart aches with the longing to be safe with her family again. Even though she still doesn't know for sure any of them survived the prison. Can't be truly certain Daryl made it past the walkers that night. But she hasn't lost her hope. They _could_ have made it. She _has_ to believe they did.  

“You alright, girl?”

Beth swallows thickly and nods her head once.

“Yeah,” she croaks out.

Daryl's pulls his fingers from her hand and before Beth has the chance to feel the loss of them, he's tugging at her arm and suddenly she's tucked between his spread knees and wrapped in his strong arms. Beth presses her face into the warm leather at his chest and inhales. This dream is strong and she's grateful for it. The smell of him: smoke, leather and earth calms the shaking in her limbs.

“Don't mean this very second.”

“I know.”

Beth curls her fingers around his flannel and vest just under her chin and nuzzles deeper. She feels Daryl's fingers tighten on her shoulder and the side of her ribs. It's maybe too tight but she doesn't care. She'd give anything to feel him for real.

“You gotta stay sharp, girl. ‘Member what I taught ya.”

“Mhm,” she hums into his chest. Even though she's thinking they never really got to finish. But she pushes that thought back. She has to stay confident. It's just her now and she has to stay focused.

Daryl's hand leaves her ribs and she feels them next under her chin. Just a hooked finger, the knuckle pushing her chin back so he can see her.

Her heart stops at seeing him head on. For the first time in what must be weeks. And yes, it's not really Daryl, just her memory of him. But his hair is in his eyes and he's chewing on his bottom lip and his gaze is locked onto her. She couldn't look away if she tried. Like she'd even want to.

Beth feels her tummy twist and she's a little dizzy but it's the best feeling she's had since she woke up in this goddamn prison.

Daryl's hand frames her jaw with his thumb at her chin and his fingers grazing that sensitive spot right behind her earlobe. She can't stop the shaky sigh from escaping. And with it, Daryl release his lip and parts his mouth slightly. Like he intends to breathe in the air she's expelled.

She hasn't blinked and her eyes sting with the exertion but neither has he and she won't be the first to do it. So afraid is she of shattering the intensity building between them.

It's mid-day sunny in her dream but she feels like she's looking at Daryl through candlelit dimness and a breathy “oh” is echoing in her whole body. A powerful urge overcomes her and Beth finds herself unable to stop her hand from lifting to wrap around Daryl's wrist, his own still cradling her jaw. She uses the anchor to raise herself enough to his face. She's centimetres away now and neither of them have yet blinked.

“Daryl,” she whispers before closing the gap and pressing her mouth to his gently.

He doesn't do anything at first. Not a surprise to Beth. But he doesn't pull away. He isn't frozen in place either. He's pliant to her advance, but it's only light and testing. So she pulls back not quite a moment later. Her eyes fluttering open to find his closed.

Beth licks her lips and feels Daryl's fingers flex against her face. She watches him, his eyes still closed and hardly breathing it seems. She doesn't think she misconstrued the way he was looking at her just now. Like she'd been stuck on the other side of a chasm that he couldn't get across, but that he'd somehow found her in his grasp once more. Like he was starving for her but not quite sure how to devour her the quickest. No, he didn't pull away. He didn't _push_ her away.

And for God’s sake, this is her dream and she'll be damned if it morphs to a nightmare!

All the times during mindless tasks here at Grady where she got stuck in thoughts about that unfinished conversation at the funeral home, she _knew_ she wanted to kiss him. She might not have been thinking it right in that moment. But now, in retrospect, God, if she could turn back time! She'd push across that table and take his face in her hands. She'd have brushed his hair back and pressed her lips to his just as she's done now. Then maybe he wouldn't have gone to the door. Maybe he would have kissed her back. Maybe that's where it would have stopped. Maybe not.

It doesn't have to now. This is a dream. And it feels so _real._ She knows if he were with her right now, they maybe wouldn't be ready for anything like this. If they'd even be at this point. But here, now? She can do it and she knows her dream-Daryl will give her what she wants.

And she's so alone and so scared.

She's brave. Yes, God does she know it now! But she's scared, too. And she needs this. She needs _him._

So it's with that thought that Beth releases Daryl's wrist and cups his cheek. But before she can push forward or pull him in, Daryl's eyes fly open and he takes one quick look at her eyes before threading his fingers around the back of her head and pulling her in. Their lips collide and it's so _so_ sweet, she can't fight back the whimper that escapes her.

All around, it's completely expected and new the way his kiss is a little clumsy but eager. She supposed this is her dream after all and how she's always, albeit briefly and sort of unconsciously, imagined kissing and _touching_ would be with daryl, this may not even be like the real thing. But that's okay. She'll revel in it nonetheless.

Daryl's finger press at her neck and she tips her head back. Their mouths break apart and she takes in a desperate breath as his lips skim down her chin and jawbone. He licks at that spot behind her ear and a moan builds in her chest. He's breathing hot and heavily against her too and somehow they find themselves pressed up against one another in the grass below the porch. It's softer than she remembers, though she's hardly focused on any of that.

“Daryl,” she breathes when he pulls her into his lap, her thighs wrapped around his hips.  

“Beth,” Daryl grounds out. And it makes her shiver all over. Hearing her name on his lips. So little has he ever said it. But as he says it now, such want and arousal coating it, she's incapable of stopping her hips from grinding into his.

Daryl groans deeply against the pulse at her neck and bites down gently at the soft skin there. His one hand is still threaded into her hair and the free one now snakes around her hip and up the back of her shirt.

Beth's skin burns where his fingers follow the line and bump of her spine. She threads her own fingers into his hair. It's long and soft; not at all grimy as it should feel, generally unwashed as it is. Though she supposed neither of them smell particularly...unwashed either. An unwelcome reminder that this is just a dream.

She pushes that aside and rolls her hips again, finding the firm mass of his cock trapped between them. It's a little shocking at first but the pressure it presses against her clit is euphoric and Beth instantly needs more of it.

So she does it again. And again. And _again_.

The rhythm they've set is not frantic at all as she’d have expected but rather needy and consuming. Daryl's fingers in her hair pull just a little too hard, as do hers. And the bruises he's surly pressing into the ribs just under her arm would be tender if they were real. But she can't pull away even an inch if she needed to. Her body simply wouldn't allow it. And Daryl's wouldn't either, she's sure.

Beth releases Daryl's hair and drops her hands to his shirt. Surprisingly, he doesn't protest as she pops the buttons loose. A slight tensing of his limbs is all she feels as she pushes his shirt and vest off his shoulders.

Daryl releases her long enough to pull his arms free of the clothing. They're both panting deeply but his eyes are back on hers and he's got no reason to worry about her discovering the scars she already suspects she'd find there. She watches him intently as he takes the hem of her shirt in both his hands and pulls it up over her head, raising her arms to help. When he tosses it behind him, she grabs for his belt and pulls at the leather and metal. Her hands are shaking again and he covers hers with his own.

“Beth.”

“It's okay,” she pants, noting the warning in his tone. It's not real, he's trying to tell her. And she knows. She'll deal with the consequences this will inevitably have to her psychologically later. Right now the weight in her belly cannot be ignored.

Daryl watches her closely for a moment as she pulls a little to release the pin and then the strap through the ring. When she's gotten his button and fly down he takes hold of her shoulders and pushes her down into the grass. She loses her breath in the process and stars fly across her eyes. Daryl is pressed up against her side as he pulls at her own belt, button and fly. He releases them all in half the time it took her and she smiles widely at that.

Daryl leaves them both open and ready and returns to her mouth with his own. He parts her lips with his and Beth groans as his wet hot tongue caresses hers deeply. The kiss is consuming and she almost forgets about their open flies when he drops a hand to her hip.

Daryl's other hand, propped up next to her by his elbow, pulls the strap and left cup of her worn lace bra down as far as it'll stretch. She lifts her hand to push the other side off her shoulder and the whole thing ends up around her waist. Daryl drops a gently kiss to the side of her small breast and a rush of air leaves Beth at the delicate touch. He licks at the soft curve of her and flicks his tongue against the pebbled bud. She shudders and grabs onto his shoulders, constricted a little as she is by her bra straps. Daryl moves his kiss to her other breast and cups a little clumsily at the other with his propped hand. Beth's nipples are tingling at his attention and her mind swims in the sensation of it.

When Daryl's hand finally pushes the fabric of her jeans aside and dips into her panties, she cries out abruptly at the first touch of his fingers to her lips. She thinks she'll hyperventilate at the feel of him parting her and finding her clit. His touch is gentle but determined and it's only a few swipes before her head is spinning.

He brings his mouth back to hers and whispers into her, “God, you're so wet, girl!” A finger dips into her and as Beth moans, a harsh breath leaves Daryl. “And fucking tight.”

Her hands travel aimlessly over his shoulders and back. Bumping lightly over the marred skin there. But she's desperate to feel something else, so with half a mind, she snakes a hand down to Daryl's open fly and pushes past his underwear line. She's met immediately with the burning heat of him. Stone hard and weeping. Beth grabs onto him, perhaps a little too roughly, evident at Daryl's bodily jolt. But he doesn't protest further so she curls her fingers around him as best she can at this angle and with his size and pulls gently.

Daryl drops his head into Beth's neck with a loud groan and she smiles into his hair. His fingers studder against all of her and his wet-hot breath coats her neck.

They each seem to collect themselves at the same time and their mouths meet again. They devour one another as their hands play.

And as the humming euphoria builds in Beth and her tugs and caresses over him turn a little clumsy, she feels tears pooling in her eyes. She breaks their kiss and turns her face away. Daryl lavishes as her neck and she fights back the tears overtaking her. They don't distract from the orgasm building in her but Beth can't keep the feelings at bay much longer.

This isn't real. Daryl's not here. She's alone and this pleasure and happiness; this comfort and _love_. It's all in her head. She doesn't have it.

Yet.

Daryl's hips, which had been rolling gently into her grip, now jerk once, twice, and again into her body before the warm wetness of him is spilling over her fingers and dripping onto her tummy.

He curls his fingers inside her as the long groan accompanies his climax and that sets her off on her own spiral through stars. Her sad thoughts forgotten for the moment.

Beth does cry then. The unshed tears stream down her temples as her spine arches up into Daryl. He covers her mouth with his, swallowing her moans as if he needs them to live.

And when it's done and her body melts into the grass, his follows. Though it feels more as if his heart has melted into hers.

They take a few moments to catch their breath and then Daryl is rolling to his back, taking Beth with him. She settles drowsily along his side, her head on his chest and his arm around her shoulders. She snakes a hand across his belly and his fingers meet hers to entwine.

As his hand leaves her shoulder to comb into her loose hair, Beth presses her nose into Daryl. Smoke and leather and earth. It's still there. Only now it's smothered in sweat, sex and _Beth._ She smiles against his skin even as the last few tears bleed out of her. Beth listened to the slowing of Daryl's heart. The _thump thump thump_ of his pulse. It all feels _so real!_ And it's tearing her apart inside knowing it can't last.

She sighs heavily.

“This ain't real.”

“Could be, girl.” He pauses for a long moment. His fingers combing gently through her curls. “We're comin for you. Just hold on a little longer. You're strong.”

“I know. That you're comin’, I mean.” She knows he won't stop until he's found her. Maybe due to some ridiculous sense of responsibility, sure. But she feels like maybe it'd be more than that. This dream isn't a complete fabrication on her part. Something was happening between them before the walkers swarmed the funeral home. He'd all but said it at dinner. She's important to him. She knows this. And maybe he doesn't love her. Yet. Maybe he doesn't even _know_ he wants her. But things had only just come to light when they were separated. Beth _has_ to get back to her family. To Daryl. And she knows he _has_ to get back to her too.

“I _am_ strong,” she whispers into his chest even as her own is aching. “I am and I'll wait for you. I'll wait for you or I'll _come to you,”_

He doesn't say anything back to her. She's not entirely sure what she expects him to, so they lay silently together. Until Beth realizes she can't feel his fingers in her hair anymore. Or the warmth of his body under her cheek and where her front is pressed against his side.

She pushes up to look at him but as she blinks in the movement, she's met only with the crisp white sheets of her hospital bed. Glowing coldly in the moonlight coming through the window.

No sunlight. No Daryl.

Beth gently scratches her nails down the pillowcase. Nothing remains of the earth and comfort of her dream. She's left only with the cold silence that is Grady in the late night hours.

“Daryl.”

A few real drops escape from her eyes and hit the pillow she looms over. Beth watches numbly as they soak slowly into the fabric. She wipes the rest away from her eyes before they have the audacity to make themselves known.

She _is_ strong. And she's getting out of here.

Daryl's coming for her. It doesn't matter that her dream-Daryl said it. She knows the truth of it like she knows her own strength.

And it may have all been a dream but she think she knows how his mouth feels against hers and how his hands thread into her hair. It may not be a true likeness, but she's ready to find out.

If she's got anything to do about it, she's getting out of here and meeting him halfway.

**Author's Note:**

> the title is taken from Susie Suh's Here With Me, which was the inspiration for this fic


End file.
